


The Night Before

by Tamatoa



Category: A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
Genre: Alcohol, Depression, Kissing, M/M, Or not, depends how you interpret it, implied later death, sorry dickens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamatoa/pseuds/Tamatoa
Summary: Canon divergent: the night before the plot, Sydney and Charles share a moment of understanding that changes the way they see each other— and for Sydney, the way he sees the rest of the world.





	The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been at least five years since I’ve read this, but I do remember shipping them. There’s probably something psychological and fucked up about it but that’s chill

The first time Sydney Carton ever feels truly loved, he and Charles are both drunk on two bottles of expensive wine that Sydney has been hiding away for some special occasion. They’ve decided to go through with the ridiculous plan, so there won’t be any more occasions to be had; they might as well drink it. Besides, it makes sense that he should fall for that man while drunk. It’s how he does everything else. 

Halfway through the second bottle, Charles is leaning heavily on Sydney’s shoulder and whispering soft nothings into his ear. He’s always been a lightweight and an overly affectionate drunk, so this is nothing new, but the kiss pressed to Sydney’s jaw certainly is. 

As Charles shifts closer and begins to paw at the buttons of Sydney’s shirt, it becomes clear that this isn’t meant to be just a spot of drunken cuddling between friends. Sydney moves to shove him away. “You’re not acting yourself. Get off.”

“M’ trying.” Charles grins, swinging one leg over to straddle Sydney’s hips, pinning him to the couch. His tone becomes somber. “You should, too. One’s last night on earth should be one to remember. That is, if you’re still certain you’re going through with all this.” 

“Of course I am.” Sydney scoffs. “There’s not much else that I could do with my life other than throw it away like this. It’s better than drinking for another fifty years, or at least until I keel over from more natural causes.” 

Charles frowns, looking at Sydney with a horrible, pitying expression that is all too familiar. “You can’t honestly think-“

“I can, and I do. Would you rather I slit my own wrists here and now, or wait to get my head cut off and let you escape? It makes no difference to me.” It does, but he can’t let Charles or, god forbid, Lucie know. 

“If I had it my way, we’d fake it differently somehow— spread rumors that I’d jumped off a bridge or the like, then spirit you away with us in our carriage— any way that doesn’t involve unnecessary death is a better way.” Charles actually looks hopeful, and it just makes the whole situation worse. 

“It’s too late for that. Besides, they’d never fall for that. You’re young and in love,” Sydney practically spits out the words, remembering Lucie, feeling like he’s intruded on something he’s never going to be part of. “You have a child, for god’s sake-“ 

Charles cuts him off, sharp and with a hint of danger. “Sydney. Shut up, before I have to make you.” 

“And how would you go about that?” Sydney doesn’t mean for it to come out as a challenge, but he lets venom creep into his words. Too late, he sees Charles look up in shock, and he’s certain that he’s crossed a line. 

“Like this.” It’s at that moment when Charles kisses him, and it takes everything in his power not to kiss back. He gasps, and Charles takes it as an invitation to lick into his mouth, gentle but possessive, claiming, only stopping when Sydney begins to tremble underneath him. “What’s the matter?”

Sydney gives himself a moment to breathe, then answers. “No one’s ever done that to me before.” 

“What, kissing?” He tilts Sydney’s head to the side theatrically, as if appraising a jewel. “I don’t believe it. You’re beautiful.” 

“You’re narcissistic.” Sydney surges up, flipping their positions and slotting his hips between the other’s thighs. Charles is disheveled, both from the drinking and the kissing, and with his hair in his face as it is, he looks more like Sydney than he ever has before. That plan might work after all... 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“You.” That much, at least, was true. He was thinking about Charles in the future, with Lucie, and his own head in a basket. 

Charles frowns. “I should hope not, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Kiss me again, or I’ll leave as soon as... as soon as we finish this awful wine.” Sydney really doesn’t want to leave, and at this point he doesn’t know if that extends to the next day. “I won’t let you suffer through it alone.”

“I wish I could say the same for you tomorrow.” Charles looks deep into Sydney’s eyes, then glances away. “I’m sorry. I just want there to be some other way. Oh god, Sydney, I-“

“Now you’re the one dwelling on it!” Sydney laughs until he’s blinking tears out of his eyes, then turns so that Charles won’t see him cry. He shifts away with half an idea of sneaking off into the other room, but Charles wraps both arms tight around him. 

“Stay here. It’s okay if you cry, you have every right to. I was about to say this, although I really wish that I had said it before— I love you. I don’t want to lose you, please don’t do this. Stay with me.” Charles holds him tighter still, voice cracking into a sob. “There’s so much to live for.” 

They sit in silence like that for several minutes, the grounding touch slowly bringing Sydney’s world back into focus, until he becomes aware of the hands moving to either side of his face. Charles leans in to kiss him for the second time that night, and this time, Sydney kisses back.


End file.
